A Match Not Made In Heaven
by luffyduffy
Summary: Bella is a cussing, perpetually horny fortune-teller, Edward's a crass, realistic chef, how can this possibly work? AH, OOC, rated M for language and lemons.


_I came to win,  
__To fight,  
__To conquer,  
To thrive,  
I came to win,  
To survive,  
__To prosper,  
To rise_

_To fly  
To fly._

Fly (Nicki Minaj)

The sky was calm and cloudless and I want so badly to sprout wings, to be able to fly and soar amongst the blue and feel like my liberty is within reach. Of course, being a human being, I'm sure that wont be happening any time soon. Fuck physics, logic, all of that shit...

After shuffling my tarot deck quickly and easily I lay out some cards, reflecting on my situation. 'Shuffle' is a bit of an understatement for what I do – I mix and mix my cards so often that they're now so worn I may as well just use them as coasters. Not that I'd ever do that. I spit and knock on wood just in case the spirits heard my thoughts. My point is that I'm a compulsive shuffler, it's just what I do.

I study the key card in my spread which happens to be the Wheel, which I interpret as the beginning of a new stage in my life. What could happen, I wonder. I live by my mantra, 'assume the universe will provide'. Whatever happens, it's for the better, if not in the short run, then in the long.

I live in New York, in a spacious apartment with a balcony that has a decent view – yeah I know, I'm lucky as fuck. Crystals and dream catchers hang in random places in my apartment, usually above my many, many bookshelves. Most of them just hold tarot decks, I collect them obsessively. It's too bad I don't have an heir because when the spirits take me, my decks will be left without a user and could probably rake in a fortune.

Speaking of fortunes, I work as a fortune teller. Yeah I know right, total scam, con, whatever you want to call it, and most people do believe that and only come in for laughs. But I truly do believe in what I do and that there is a higher power that guides us in our pursuits. Unfortunately I get a lot of shit about it but what can I do. A more ignorant person would curse the spirits for not smiting those who made fun of them but.. Yeah who am I kidding, I do that, but at least I chastise myself afterwards. And then burn some incense, just in case.

My white piece of shit cat jumps onto my lap, unfortunately slipping a little and hanging onto my skirt with his claws. Did I mention he is a piece of shit? After he adjusts himself I start petting him subconsciously, threading my fingers through his thick fur. I had found him a few months ago, abandoned and starving. To be fair, he could've just run away, but despite the connection I have with my spirituality I usually assume the worst in people. It's just how the world is these days, especially in New York. A stranger could just as easily mug you as smile at you. Or I'm just a cynic.

My reading has left me almost completely relaxed, as it usually does. Strangely enough though, my darling vagina thinks the term 'relaxed' is synonymous with 'horny', and so it immediately starts to throb. I step through the glass sliding door connecting the balcony to the rest of the apartment, stretching as I go, before reaching down to the waistband of my skirt. I stroll lazily to my room, standing in front of the full length mirror to look at my reflection's hand sliding down between her legs.

I spread my pussy lips and tease myself gently, cupping my breast with my other hand. After focusing on the sensation of my fingers rolling my nipple for a while I feel like enough wetness has pooled in my panties. I take off all of my clothes until I'm left naked and glance at myself in the mirror once again. My tits are perky with rosy nipples, my cunt bare and ready for attention.

I walk over to my bed and lie down slowly, relishing the rush of anticipation that consumes me. My hand trails to my pussy again and I cant take it any more, I begin to rub my clit frantically. I moan as I find my g-spot, feeling my juices gush out. I spread my legs wider to allow more access and start to pump my fingers in and out of my cunt and decide to conjure up a fantasy.

This guy.. Edward.. he owns a restaurant opposite to where I tell fortunes. He's so fuckhot but doesn't notice me, or when he does it seems like his eyes are tinged with disgust – I've pegged him as one of those stubborn 'realists' who deem my kind as quixotic and not worth their time. Needless to say, I don't fantasize about him for his personality.

He's beside me now and he's naked, his fingers in the place of mine. "Your sweet little pussy's all mine," he murmurs, pumping fast and hard before coming up to my clit and pinching it. He moves his body downwards, licking and nipping at skin on his way. His tongue eventually reaches my folds and I gasp, the feeling of it plunging into my pussy causing darts of electricity to shoot around in my stomach. His head bobs as he works me furiously and my hands come to his mane of bronze hair, pushing him down, probably suffocating him but I cant think straight when he's doing those things to me.

The sensation overwhelms me and I orgasm hard, my cum spilling out of my pussy and onto my hand. I lay still and breathe deeply, sated but disappointed that the fantasy wasn't real. The man had such long fingers, he could probably reach my fucking womb. Tell-tale wetness started seeping out again and I stop thinking of him, afraid that my nether region will beg for my fingers again when its so sensitive.

But of course, the fuckwit cat has to jump on my tits and scare the shit out of me, raking his claws on them in the process. I groan and throw him off, not caring about his screech. We have a love/hate relationship, Cat and I. And yes, his name is Cat, due to the fact that I waited too long to name him and called him cat when I couldn't think of an appropriate title, so now that's all he responds to.

Before I fall asleep, post-orgasm glow causing my eyes to droop, I ponder the Wheel. I hope the changes are positive, not negative, but knowing the spirits, they're not going to let me know until the last minute.

**EPOV**

Fish I love, fish I do, fish I will...Wait, did I just say I'd do a fish? Wake up, Cullen.

I was de-boning a monster in the kitchen on my beloved restaurant after a night on the town with my boys, definitely not a good idea as I'd had around four hours of sleep. Especially since I'm working with a knife. I don't think I've thought this through.

I sigh and drop the knife, vowing to come back to it later. You'd think since I own the place I'd be able to sit back and relax once in a while but nope, I often have to work twelve hour days. But I love it like a pair of tits so its all good.

On this fine morning I step out for a second to admire the day and see if my shipment has arrived, only to see the fruitcake across the street opening her "store". Of course it's not a place of business, everyone knows tarot is Latin for bullshit. She sees me scowling at her and scowls back, her nose scrunching up..so fucking cute. Did I just think that? Shit, I need some coffee.

I always get disgruntled when I think non-derogatory things about Swan, as she's such a con-artist and I don't respect her at all. Of course, I could just fuck her to get it out of my system but.. I just don't know how to approach her. _Hey, will you ask the spirits if this pimple on my ass will ever fuck off? _I doubt that would go over well. But hell does she look adorable when she's pissed, I just want to go over and spank her. _Shut up shut up shut up._

I turn my back on her, vowing not to ever glance in her direction. Of course, I make this oath to myself every morning, and break it the next without fail.


End file.
